Together through the Brexit (FrUK)
by YumestarGerman
Summary: England has only three days left to make a decision whether staying or leaving the EU. The Brexit is coming and he doesn't know what to do. When the politics and economy starts to get worser, England is desperated and very sick. Suddenly, France is there for him and takes care of everything. But why? And will they be able to stop the Brexit? It's a run against time! (Sickfic, FrUK)


**So, I really wanted to write a story about the Brexit. Then, short before my German exam, this idea popped in my mind and I had to write it down.**

**So enjoy this crazy thing!**

**Critism is always welcome!**

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**Together through the Brexit **

**Written by: Yumestar **

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"England, so you're really gonna do this?" The American voice rang out of the phone's speaker, "You're going to leave the EU? I'm totally for it! And if you like to, you can join the United States!"

"Hmm-Hmm." England listened only half-heartedly and inattentively to his younger brother's words.

In front of him on the table lay an infinite number of papers, which were distributed in a great chaos on the table top. Financials, economic revenues, expenditures, statics. A colorful mix of graphics and texts. He sighed deeply, took a paper in his hand and dropped his head on the tabletop a few seconds later.

"England?" America's voice sounded worried, but also very curious. He would have preferred to have seen from the listener what brought England so much fun, "What's the existing thing you're doing? Are you planning to leave the EU by force? Much like me when I made myself independent of you? "

_Independence._ The word left England a nasty taste in his mouth. It was like a wave of pain was driving through his body and he shivered. Then, he coughed weakly into his arms before he had gathered enough strength to lift his head and speak, "America, this isn't fun."

"But it sounds like you're having so much fun though!" America laughed and seemed lighthearted as ever.

England chuckled slightly, if only about the fact that he couldn't be the same as his younger brother. Then, he sighed again. The smacking disappeared. Why couldn't he think the same way as America did? Why not leave the EU with a smile?

Perhaps because he didn't want to leave the European Union at all.

But how did all this happen in the first place? He let things go through his head again.

All the chaos had already begun in 2013 with the referendum announcement. Even then, he had been thinking about leaving the EU, but he had never really planned to do so.

However, in 2016 the result of his population hit him hard and an EU exit was voted for. With that, England had run out of decision-making power. He had to submit to his people, whether he wanted to stay or leave. He hated it.

In 2017, he had to submit to the other EU countries that he wanted to leave the European Union. Even then, it was only with a heavy heart that he had managed to present the document to the others. His hands had sweated, his forehead had been wet and his heart had beaten like crazy. He had been so nervous and anxious, yet in the eyes of the other European countries he had pretended it was the best thing that could have happened to him.

But everything has only gone worse for him since this year. In the last few days and weeks , the situation deteriorated drastically. His superior Theresa May had resigned and apart from the Queen, England had no one to properly talk about the Brexit. His country was in chaos and disagreement. He felt the people's rebellion against the government in his bones. Sometimes this pain was unstoppable. Just like now.

His head was droning, and he was pushing two fingers against the throbbing spot. He groaned up painfully and grumbled heavily. Because of all the paperwork and because of the ever-recurring nightmares that recently haunted him at night, he had hardly found restful sleep. He was so tired and exhausted that he would have preferred to fall asleep on the spot he was right now.

But the paperwork kept him awake. And there was another thing ...

"Englaaaaand!" America's scream sounded like the shrill ringing of an alarm clock, "Can I come visiting you and have also fun with Brexit? After all, we can conclude commercial contracts directly and plan the economy together and everything else!" He sounded as enthusiastic as he did when he was filming a new Hollywood movie. He loved helping others, especially when he gained benefits as a result. With England by his side, he would be even more powerful than he had already been. He had to take advantage of this opportunity for himself!

"No, America." England's voice sounded quiet and weak, "I ... I don't want to do that."

He had so many arguments against America's proposal. First of all, he was trying to make himself independent and didn't want to dependent on others again; then, he didn't need help with the economy, as he would conclude his own trade agreements.

But he was too tired to make those arguments. He was too tired and exhausted to explain this to America. He was just so damn death-tired that he didn't even want to discuss it. He wanted to sleep. End this call. What did America's demotivating words get him? These childish, unrealistic proposals? These naive, dangerous offers? He wasn't as optimistic and lighthearted as America had been. He was the self-critical, right now desperate England.

"But England-"

"Enough!" He gave America a few seconds. Then, he hung up and clapped the phone with the screen side down on the table.

Afterwards, he frantically buried his face in his hands and drove his way tense through his wet hair. He didn't even know when he had last showered, let alone eaten anything. Even his afternoon tea he had dropped out for I don't know how many days. After so many desperate hours without proper government, he had lost the sense of time and it was getting on his nerves.

He coughed again. Stronger than before. He held his chest and took a heavy breath through his terribly burning lungs. He then painfully exhaled the air again. Exhausted, he lowered his head, looked at the graphics in front of him, and then pushed it out of his sight with a desperate sigh.

_The Brexit will be my end._ He knew it. Ever since there had been this shreatted proposal.

It is true that he had not always liked everything about the EU; -He wanted to keep his pound, he wanted fewer immigrants, and he didn't want to pay money for other heavily indebted countries like Greece- but he actually got along well with the EU countries. Except with France of course.

_The only positive thing will be that I don't have to see him that often anymore._ He sighed deeply and buried his head in his arms, _but I don't know if I really like that._

He exhaled the hot air and closed his eyes. He just wanted to get on other thoughts for a few minutes and not think about the Brexit. Perhaps dreaming of ghosts, cute little fairies and pink unicorns that took him to a foreign country. A country where he could live without worries.

But such a country didn't exist in this hard world.

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When England had almost fallen asleep over his thoughts, a knock on the door woke him up. Grumbling, he raised his head, rubbed sleepily over his arms and wondered who that might be. He suspected that America had come after all and he was considering just staying seated. Probably the one knocking on his door would go off by himself.

Yet the one at his door remained stubborn and knocked on his door with persevering blows even after ten minutes. The blows were so loud and hard that England believe they would break the door at any moment.

_Is this Russia!?_, England wondered, and his face became pale, _What does he want here!? How ghastly!_

Russia was the last one he wanted to see right now.

"Angleterre! I know you're there!" A familiar French voice shouted from outside.

Suddenly England's face went from snow-white to tomato red.

_France!? What is he doing here!?_ He held his breath surprised, but then started to cough the air out.

He corrected his previous statement: France was the last one he wanted to see right now.

Nevertheless, England stood up knowing all too well how stubborn this wine freak could be. Once France had set his mind about something, he pulled it through just as hard as the French Revolution – If not even harder.

"I'm coming," he muttered under bitten teeth, dragging himself to the door. His legs felt heavy as lead and he had to lean on a wall to go ahead in the first place. The walls around him pounded waves like the sea around his island and he had to close his eyes briefly so that everything around him wouldn't be so blurry. Awkwardness, he kept torceling. He only kept his eyes half open as he felt dizzy again and had too close them ever so often. The way to the door seemed further away than from here to Australia, although the door was only a few feet away from him. Nevertheless, he made his path in remarkable six minutes, which were like hours for him. The way was as tedious as a trip over the Zugspitze. Whooping and with his powers at the limit, he opened the door, which has not yet been smashed by France.

"Angleterre! Why did it take you so long to open the damn door-Angleterre! " France's question was already answered when he saw his old enemy. His cheerful expression darkened because of his concern. England looked awful. There were deep circles under his febrile shiny eyes. Unhealthily reddened cheeks. A tired, almost deadly look.

"What do you want?" England asked him in a hoarse voice and turned away from him coughing.

For the moment, France only stood there with his mouth open, looking for any appropriate words, but none came to mind. Even his perplexed, desperately waving hand gestures showed that he couldn't find any words to describe the whole situation he got himself into. He was just too confused to say anything.

"If you don't want anything, then-" England wanted to slam the door in his face, but France quickly put his foot in the door frame so that it didn't close.

"Angleterre, what the hell is wrong with you!?" France's voice was louder caused by the concern he suddenly felt. He almost screamed right into the other country's face.

This deterred England and he precariously took a few steps away from the door. He felt dizzy again and held on to the wardrobe stand. His legs trembled as if they were giving in at any moment. At the same time, he was afraid of France, as he had become so loud. Why did this wine freak just always have to scream like this?

France took the opportunity to open the door wide and invited himself into England's home. Then, he quickly closed the door behind him before England came up with the idea of pushing him out again. But the island nation had other worries than expelling its uninvited guest.

A strong coughing fit overcame England and he burst into a dreadful cough that immediately drew France's attention to him. Painfully, he grabbed his chest and bent forward to get enough air. When breathing, a stinging pain spat through his lungs and when coughing, this stabbing was a whole lot worse. He was now gasping for air, because he was slowly getting out of air. A few seconds later, he burst back into a coughing fit, almost pulling the wardrobe stand to the ground in the process. France was able to hold it, so the piece of wood wouldn't drop on England's head.

Without saying a word, -even though there was so much to say- France put his arms around the weakened England and propped it up. He detached those little hands, which were longing for something to hold from the wardrobe stand and held them.

_So cold._ France gently squeezed these hands on England's chest so he could breath better and warm him up. At the same time, he had England's weakened body leaning against his and he himself leaned against the wall so he wouldn't be dragged to the ground.

"Shhh, mon chéri, everything will be fine." He finally got the encouragement to bring these words over his lips as he hugged England nearer to himself.

Then, for a short time, he listened to the accelerated breathing, which slowed down. He, too, sighed relieved, but he didn't feel relieved and safe. He would probably only feel good when all these questions now coming to his mind were answered. What was wrong with England? Why was he doing so badly? Did he really want to get out of the EU?

With the latter question, he had come here. It was only now that the reason why he had made his way to England today occurred again.

To know the truth.

To be sure England was making the right decision.

**So, this was the first chapter of maybe three or four chapter. The story itself is only 10,500 words long. But I promise it will getting interested! **

**So what do you think about the first part? Let me know ^-^**


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